


Pride of Tarth

by ExiledHearts



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ADWD, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExiledHearts/pseuds/ExiledHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne unexpectedly joins Jaime and his company at Pennytree, informing him that she has found Sansa Stark and that the girl is less than a day's ride from where they are. However, she tells Jaime that he must accompany her and they must journey to her alone or else The Hound will kill her.<br/>Jaime agrees without hesitation and the two head off in to the wilderness together. Their journey will take them both in to danger, with no guarantee that they will both return. They have only each other to protect them and help them survive the treacherous roads and the murderous Brotherhood Without Banners captained by the cruel Lady Stoneheart.<br/>Jaime will soon learn that not everything is as it seems, either about their quest, or about the woman he is travelling with.<br/>Continues on from ADWD, Spoilers! Enjoy! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oathbreaker

Chapter 1

Oathbreaker

“Ser? My Lady?” his voice was still rough and harsh from his near brush with death but the boy was nothing if not dutiful, and so Brienne thought, as he handed her the whetstone she had requested he fetch her from her saddlebags.  
She could think of nothing else to do that night as they made camp and Pod’s wide, over-bright eyes followed her wherever she went, noting every movement or else stared off into the gloom as though expecting that they would be set upon at any moment.  
“Thank you, Podrick.” She told him quietly, accepting the stone and laying the sword tenderly across her lap.  
He settled down between her and the fire, watching attentively in case she might have need of something else from him. The firelight flickered across his pale skin and sent strange, twisted shadows dancing across his features, transforming them worryingly, making him appear gaunt and wane, giving the impression that she had made camp with a skeleton.  
She shivered slightly at that thought, despite the heat from the fire, as she remembered the companions she had left at their previous camp...Something that did not bear thinking about.  
“Ser, my Lady, are you cold? Shall I fetch more wood for the fire?” Pod enquired quickly,  
She smiled slightly at his attentiveness. Of course he had noted the tremor that had ran through her, but how could he know that it had been nothing to do with the cold.  
She was about to tell him that she was fine, and that the shiver had not been one produced of cold, but the lad needed something to occupy him, that was clear as the day was long and she sent him scampering gratefully into the brush to collect more wood for the fire, warning him not to go far and to shout if he got in to difficulties.  
She was fairly sure that they should be safe enough here though. They were close enough to the road and their camp lay between two towns that were heavily populated, despite their location. They should be safe enough. If anyone could be safe in these troubled times...  
Unbidden, her thoughts returned to the night before, watching poor Pod hanging from the tree, his fingers desperately scrabbling at the noose around his neck. It had been all she could do not to scream and in the end she had. She had unbent her honour in order to save the boy’s life.  
It was strange, and so she told herself. The boy had been Tyrion Lannister’s squire, by that fact alone, she ought not to trust him. But he had proven himself to be a true and loyal companion, with an almost reckless bravery that had startled her and had been shown to be an eager and quick learner, and someone that she had enjoyed having about her on the road.  
When they had cut him down his lips had turned blue and his limbs were twitching horribly but somehow, the gods heard her prayers and they spared the boy’s life. Then it was all she could do to let him hold on to it...  
He had gaped at her and spluttered through the water they had tried to offer him, eyes wide and disbelieving as she had attempted to reason with the outlaws, and specifically, Lady Stoneheart who had watched her with those cold, harsh eyes, not even a shadow of the woman she had once been.  
Pod returned then, arms overflowing with wood, looking as though he had chopped down half the forest in his attempts to make her comfortable.  
She laughed then, heartened by the boy’s kindness.  
He glanced up at her then, uncertain if he was being mocked, wide eyes watching her as he deftly re-arranged the logs on the fire, “Ser?” he asked, voice caught between fearful and uncertainty, “Have I done something wrong My Lady?”  
“No Podrick.” She told him gently, a smile still gracing her lips, glad that she had allowed him to accompany her, “Come, sit by me, I would speak with you tonight.”  
“Concerning what ser? My Lady?” he asked, stumbling down beside her,  
“Concerning this,” she said, holding Oathkeeper out for his inspection, “Do you know how to sharpen a sword, Podrick?”  
Theb boy shook his head, “No ser, my lady. Lord Tyrion...” he broke off at that point, the ghost of a smile lighting his face at some memory that she was not privy to, “He said that books were the whetstone of the mind, but he never had much use for the real thing...”  
“I see.” Brienne said quietly, absently running a thumb along the side of Oathkeepers blade, testing it.  
In truth, she had not seen The Imp as having been a great swordsman and, now that she thought on it properly, realised that Podrick’s time with him would most likely have been spent running to the library and not the smithy.  
“Would you like to learn?” she asked him,  
“To sharpen a sword? Please ser. Ah, my lady.”  
She smiled again at that. The jumbling of titles and phrases that he stumbled over when first they met had become a habit and she had not troubled herself to correct them, not being sure what the right title was for her at any rate, and realising now that she would miss whichever one he refrained from using.  
He sat up, attentively, hanging on her every word as though he intended to use them and remember them until his dying day which, she reminded herself, was not something she would put past him. Having served the Imp for so long had given Pod a taste for knowledge and that had developed into a voracious hunger that had blossomed on the road whenever she had placed a sword anywhere near him. He had been a keen learner and, so she soon learned, far more proficient with the blade than she had anticipated.  
She showed him how to soak the whetstone before use and then the proper way to run it along the blade in order to get a keen, sharp edge on it. She watched his eyes light up, flickering along the length of the sword and pinning down every move she made with the stone, committing it to memory.  
When they were finished, she had him dry the blade for her while she stowed the whetstone in her saddlebags once more.  
She returned to the fire to watch him gazing, longingly at the sword. She could not fault him for that, it was something she herself had done on many occasions. She had never believed that a weapon could, or even should be aesthetically pleasing. It was a tool of war, meant to bring death and to coat itself in blood, but she had to admit, that there was a strange, raw beauty to Oathkeeper, that she herself had admired and cherished since Jaime had given it to her.  
She thought of Jaime then and her heart ached. She knew what she was doing. Knew what she had sworn to do.  
It is the right thing. It must be the right thing. Lady Catelyn still lurks somewhere within that monster. I saw her there, when I cried out. When she spared my life, and Pod’s. She will do the right thing. I am sworn to her. I must uphold my vows. I must do as she has asked...  
And yet...And yet...  
They said that deeds were stronger than words. She had taken no oaths and sworn Jaime no vows but nevertheless, she was in his debt. He had saved her from being raped by Bloody Mummers on the road and had returned for her, to save her life when she was trapped in that bear pit.  
She would remember the sight of him leaping in to the pit beside her, pulling her behind him, despite her protests and standing alone and unarmed in front of an angry bear until she drew her dying breath.  
It had been him she saw as the noose was slipped around her neck then, and it had been him she had thought of as she had cried out the word that had spared her life and Podrik’s.  
And now...  
No. She would not think about now. In this world, cruel and twisted, where the high lords played their game of thrones, there were pieces and there were players. As a knight, Brienne was a piece. She allowed the lords to play their games and used her to do what they would. She was their humble and loyal servant, the one they knew they could depend upon. As Lady Catelyn depended on her.  
As Jaime was depending on her.  
She irritably pushed the thought from her mind. She was sworn, first and foremost, to Lady Catelyn. That was the one she was sworn to serve and protect Jaime...  
Jaime was a complication. An irritating thorn in her side, as stubborn as it was inexplicably desirable. He had changed. He was not the man she had first thought him to be. He had proven that to her a half a hundred times. She owed him much, besides her life.  
She understood now what he had meant. “They make you swear too many oaths...And what happens when they conflict?”  
What did happen?  
She clung to her oaths and her morals because it gave her something to cling to. Something she could always swear was right. If she did as she was bid then no-one could ever accuse her of acting dishonourably, of doing anything wrong. All she was doing was the work of her master. Of the one she was sworn to. She could not be doing ill then...  
Jaime’s voice floated to her then,  
If the servant obeys the master and slaughters the innocent, upon whose hands does the blood linger?  
On mine... She told herself.  
Was it not possible to do good, to do the right thing, without having it sworn in an oath or a vow? Could one not do something honourable, even if it was not their duty.  
Jaime told her once that she had made him more honourable. That she had helped him to find a path after staggering on blindly in the dark for so long. It seemed to her that he had had just as much of an influence over her life as she had on his.  
She could not do this. Whatever the cost and whatever they might call her, she could not do that to the man she...  
To the man she what? Owed? Respected? Admired? Loved...  
The last thought terrified her and she was so glad then for Podrick’s interruption, that it might well have been him she kissed.  
“Ser? My Lady?” he hesitated, clearly wondering if he was overstepping the mark as he asked uncertainly, “Is...Is something wrong?”  
“Why would you say that Podrick?” she asked him quietly,  
“I...” he stumbled over his words, flushing darkly and taking a moment to marshal his thoughts before making an uncomfortable eye contact with her once more and saying, “You do not look...Happy, my lady, ser...”  
“No Podrick, I do not...” she agreed with a heavy sigh, running her eye along Oathkeeper’s length and wondering why she had not sheathed it yet, “What do you think of...This?” she asked, gesturing around them,  
“It’s not my place to think on it ser, my lady...” he replied quietly, shuffling his feet slightly,  
“But you do, don’t you?” she said. For all his inability to string sentences together to form a coherent conversation, the boy was more than capable of stringing two coincidences together and finding the truth of the matter that would elude others, his wits were not near as dull as his tongue, of that she was sure,  
“I...Might ser, my lady...” he replied uncomfortably, looking as though she might be tricking him,  
“Then I might hear them.” She told him, watching him carefully,  
“My Lady!” he protested, shocked, “I...It is not my place, ser, I could not.”  
“I would hear what you have to say on this matter Podrick,” she told him firmly, “You have a sensible head on your shoulders, more so than most, and I would hear what it has to say on this matter.”  
“I, very well ser...If My Lady commands it...” he mumbled, flushing slightly. He hesitated before saying, “You swore an oath to lady Catelyn, did you not?” he asked,  
“I did.” Brienne said gravely, “I swore to find her daughters, if I could, and to return them to her.”  
“And you swore an oath to Ser Jaime as well?” Podrick confirmed,  
She watched him wryly, as he flushed, and well might he, she thought, sighing and shaking her head, wondering where he had come by that piece of information, as she certainly had not told him.  
“I did. I told him I would defend his honour and find the Stark girls and make sure they were safe, as he swore to their mother, Lady Catelyn, upon his release.” She paused, watching him carefully to see what he made of this, before he could answer however, she asked him, “How did you know?”  
“I...Well....”he mumbled to his knees, “If you had not sworn an oath to Ser Jaime, you would not be uncertain about whether to obey Lady Catelyn...Or Lady Stoneheart...”  
“You have too much sense for your own good.” She told him, shaking her head, realising that if she wished her thoughts to remain private she would need to guard them more carefully,  
“Thank you Ser, My Lady...” Podrick mumbled, looking strangely pleased with himself, his ears turning red at the compliment, “But...You have sworn them both the same oath, have you not?” Pod asked, returning to the subject she had charged him with, “To find Lady Catelyn’s daughters and ensure their safety...So if you obey one, by extension, you obey the other.”  
“But one has charged me to kill the other.” Brienne sighed heavily,  
“Not...Not quite Ser, My Lady...You were only charged with brining the Kingslayer to Lady Catelyn so that she might judge him...”  
That was true. Brienne had managed to negotiate that much. But it amounted to the same thing in the end.  
“Podrick,” she told him sternly, watching him with an appraising eye that he squirmed beneath, “I do not believe that you are so much of a fool to believe that if we do bring Ser Jaime before Lady Catelyn that she will not execute him? If I do as I am bid by Lady Catelyn, it will mean Jaime’s death, of that I am sure...”  
“Lady Stoneheart...” Pod muttered quietly,  
“What do you mean?” Brienne asked, rather more sharply than she had intended,  
“Do you believe that...That creature is Lady Catelyn any longer?” Pod asked her softly, large, bright eyes shining.  
Brienne had not considered that before, wondering if she was still bound to ‘that creature’ as Pod put it. No. She would not use technicalities to escape her oath.  
She shook her head and replied, “Whatever she may be now, I swore her an oath, and that I must uphold. Even if I do not consider my promises to find her daughters, I swore that I would bring Jaime to her if she might spare our lives. I am bound by that promise at least.”  
“But you also swore an oath to the Kinglsayer that you are bound by...” Pod said in a measured voice, reiterating her dilemma,  
“I am.” Brienne agreed, troubled, “And now I do not know whose oath I should be bound by. To whom do I owe allegiance?”  
“I...If I might speak freely ser, my lady?” Pod asked cautiously,  
“Of course. “ she said, “I would hear what you would say Podrick, I have said this.”  
“I...My Lady, Ser, if you had not sworn an oath to either, if you were doing this of your own free will...Whose orders would you carry out then?”  
She considered this, and the answer came too easily to her. She shook her head.  
“But I am bound by oaths.” She said irritably,  
“But...Above all Ser, My Lady...You wish to do the right thing?” Pod asked tentatively,  
“Yes. I do.”  
The right thing...She mused, yes, that is what I want, that is what I always want. My oaths and my duties help lead me to doing the right thing after all. That is what I want.  
“Then...I would say you must ask yourself what the right thing is. If you had no oaths to either, and no obligation, would you bring Ser Jaime to...To that woman, or would you continue trying to find Sansa and Arya Stark?”  
“I would try and find Sansa and Arya...” she admitted, but even as she said the words, she knew that they were wrong. They turned to ash in her mouth and threatened to choke her as she heard the word, oathbreaker, shouted back at her.  
“Then you know.” Pod told her simply,  
“But I do not. That is not...”  
“I did not say you knew that is what you must do Ser, I only said that now you know what you must do, My Lady.” Pod told her neatly, watching her with a guarded expression,  
She paused, struck by this and they sat in silence for a long time until Pod ventured carefully,  
“Ser...My Lady...Might...Might there be something else that is affecting your decision?”  
“What do you mean?” she asked sharply, knowing exactly what he meant,  
“How you feel about...About the Kinglsayer, Ser, My Lady...”  
“I, I do not feel anything about Ser Jaime.” She spluttered, realising in that moment what had given her away, even to herself, “That is not your place Podrick.” She told him sternly,  
“My apologies Ser, My Lady...” he murmured, flushing darkly, and making her sure that she would not be able to extract a word from him anymore than she would be able to draw blood from her whetstone, for the next few days.  
“You should try and get some sleep Podrick. We will have a long day tomorrow.”  
“Yes My Lady, I, Ser...” he said, hurrying away from her as though concerned that she was carrying the pale mare and scurried off to get his sleeping mat, leaving her alone with the fire flickering over her face.  
As with everything else he had said to her that night however, she found more than a grain of truth in his last words.  
What did she feel about Jaime? And could she let that change what she now knew needed to be done?  
Jaime. A Lannister, a lion by name and by nature. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Traitor. Liar...Saviour...  
Whatever they may say about him, she knew the truth. She knew the man not the deeds. She had sworn to herself before she left that she would behave impartially and impassively towards him, that she would not rise to any of his bait, that she would not give credence to any of his wild tales or excuses.  
But slowly, day by day, mile by mile, step by step and word by word, she had found herself getting to know Jaime Lannister, and not the Kingslayer. She had heard tales of him for as long as she could remember, of his infamy, of his arrogance, and his self-interest, how he had killed the Mad King for personal glory only, he had done it to give himself the title of Kingslayer, that he approved of it, that he wore it like a crown, that he was proud of his treachery. That he was more beast than man.  
A monster in golden armour that someone draped a white cloak around by all accounts.  
But that was not the man she knew. The man she knew was brave and selfless, else he would never have leapt in to a bear pit to save someone he had once crossed swords with. He was true. True to her at least. He had never betrayed her, or attempted to sell her out, he had spared her, had risked a beating, and worse, by informing her captors that she was worth her weight in sapphires, and that if they raped her, her value would be diminished, thus saving her. He had not had to do that, she had not asked him to, and yet he had. He had done as his oaths had bid him, to protect the weak and the innocent.  
That was not the man they told her he was.  
The man she knew. The man she... Did she? Did she truly feel that way about him? There was a connection between them, there was no denying that. They had both been there for the other at the time when they were weakest, the most vulnerable, and the most insecure, they had both protected and saved the other. That forged a deep, unavoidable bond.  
But was there more?  
Could there be more?  
Could there be desire? Of course there was desire. Every woman in the Seven Kingdoms desired Jaime Lannister, or had at some point in their lives, she was no different. But could there be more than that? Could she want him?  
She decided that she could. That she missed him.  
They had spent a long time travelling together. She had become accustomed to having him by her side. Even at the times he had been making cruel japes about her, testing her, pushing her, trying to push her too far, to make her snap, to get under her skin, apparently, for the sole pleasure of knowing that he had done that.  
She found that she missed his japes. His reckless abandon on the road, not caring who knew he was there. She missed his taunting and his cruelty. She even missed him calling her ‘wench’.  
And she missed what their relationship had developed in to. A mutual respect for one an another and the skills they each had. He had given her a certain sense of security, a comfort almost, she knew that, if they hit danger, he would be at her back, or most likely at her front, trying to be the noble gentleman and protect her from whatever trouble they had run in to.  
She missed his presence with her. The same way she missed the familiar weight of a sword at her hip, or a dagger in her boot when they were not there. She missed him as she imagined he would have missed his hand when they had taken it from him. The man she had began despising, despite her pretence of indifference had grown so close to her, that it felt as though they had taken a limb from her.  
She missed him.  
And she loved him.  
She knew that now. There was no use hiding from it. She loved him. Whether or not he could love her back. It was a different kind of love to the one she had held for Renly Baratheon, that had been born of admiration and respect, this was born of lust and intimacy.  
And so now that begged the question: Could she send the man she loved to his death for the sake of an oath?


	2. Flesh, Blood and Bone

**Chapter 2**

Flesh, Blood and Bone

Brienne roused Pod at first light and watched as he scampered around their camp like a storm at sea, gathering up their possessions and neatly packing them in to the saddlebags.

When she had first encountered the boy on the road, she had thought him to be a simple boy, stuttering and uncertain. It had soon become apparent that he was far more than he appeared. Loyal and dutiful, as well as hard-working and efficient, all qualities she valued in him. She had also soon learned that he was more intelligent than anyone would immediately give him credit for, and therefore more intelligent than was good for him.

She had often found this to her liking as well but after the few too many and few too perceptive truths he had thrown her way the night before, she was beginning to think that his sharp wits were as liable to get him killed as a sharp tongue.

He had been notably quiet and subdued that morning. In an attempt to put behind them what had happened the night before, altogether aware that they had many more miles to cover that day, and not feeling that she would relish them in the presence of a silent spectre, she had tried to lighten the tone and begin a friendly conversation as they were breaking their fast.

To no avail. Pod had turned the colour of an over-ripe tomato and had mumbled a few incoherent words, upset a pot of water over the fire and stumbled off to attend to the horses. All in all, not what she could consider a success.

Still, they were ready to leave that morning faster than she would have believed possible and had taken their leave from the little camp before the sun had fully cleared the horizon.

She slipped back in to musing about the days to come and what she would do when they inevitably came across Ser Jaime.

The last inn they had been able to stop at Brienne's coins and Pod's surprising prowess at  _Cyvasse,_ that he claimed to owe to Lord Tyrion, had led to the knowledge that Jaime Lannister was currently at Pennytree, and that he had received a rather frosty reception from the villagers.

From there accounts differed based upon who you asked and how much of the bar's criminally strong ale they had been served, with some claiming that the Kingslayer and his company had been set upon by the deranged inhabitants of Pennytree and that their heads were now mounted on spikes above the gates as a warning to all.

The man responsible for that particular tale had received a crack over the head with a large pewter tankard and the rather grim sailor declared that to be 'codswallop' and had informed Brienne in confidential tones that the Kingslayer himself had approached the gates to treat with the villagers. When one had attempted to spear him, he had caught the shaft in his golden hand and tossed it back, sending it straight through its owner and forcing Pennytree to open its gates.

Those were, by far, the most sensible tales that Brienne and Pod had come across, the rest increasing in disbelief until, upon hearing news of dragons sacking the town, Brienne had taken her leave with a rather reluctant Pod in tow, his purse considerably fatter than it had been when they had entered.

Still, all of the accounts had agreed that Jaime was at Pennytree and so that was where Brienne now headed with Pod by her side.

They had managed to acquire new horses in the little village they had stopped and both of them had found their mounts to be sure-footed and steady creatures, well-worth the gold they had paid for them.

She had decided that she would arrive at Pennytree and ask for an audience with Jaime, sure that he would not refuse her. From there she would inform him that she had located one of Lady Catelyn's daughters, in the company of The Hound, and would ask him to accompany her to rescue the girl, insisting that he must leave her company and travel with her alone, and perhaps with Podrick.

She was sure that Jaime would not reject her. He would accompany her. He must. And once they were on the road...Well. There was a ways to go until they would encounter the Brotherhood Without Banners and Lady Stoneheart again. She would have time to decide what the best thing for her, and for her oaths, would be.

She hoped that seeing him again and being with him once more would help to make that decision easier. But after what Pod had helped her to uncover with regards to her feelings for her, she doubted that it would make anything easier...

Desperate to avoid lingering on memories concerning her and Jaime, she turned to Podrick, searching desperately for a topic of conversation that might stand a chance at having him speak to her once more.

Her eyes fell one the fat purse that clinked happily at his side, owing to the bets he had made, and largely won, playing  _Cyvasse_. Her thoughts turned to the man he claimed to have taught him the game and the unlikely relationship that seemed to have been struck between the sharp-tongued dwarf and the stumble-tongued squire.

"You said Lord Tyrion taught you to play  _Cyvasse_?" she asked carefully, watching him as they joined the road once more.

Podrick nodded, and for a moment she feared that was all he would do, but it seemed that talk of the Imp at last loosened his tongue, "Lord Tyrion was good at  _Cyvasse_." He confessed simply, "He taught me while he was recovering from the Battle of the Blackwater. He said he needed something to keep his spirits up and his mind working."

"He seemed to find a good opponent in you." Brienne commented.

The compliment made the boy flush but he also smiled with something close to pride and nodded again, "After two weeks he complained that he ought not to have taught me..." he broke off, flushing and muffled a curious giggle,

"Why was that?" Brienne prompted, enjoying the light lull of conversation,

"Lord Tyrion was fond of his wines." Podrick confessed, smiling still, "And when he had been in his cups and he suggested a game, he was prone to making bets..."

"Bets that he started to lose?" Brienne asked with a smile, raising an eyebrow and understanding the source of Pod's merriment,

"Yes." Pod agreed, glancing at her as he grinned shyly, "And a Lannister always pays his debts."

"That they do." Brienne agreed, picturing the scene and the dwarf's fury. She was struck by another thought and asked Pod curiously, "What was Lord Tyrion like?"

They had heard several stories on the road, most of which Pod passionately denied, that related to the Imp. Claiming that he had been responsible both for King Joffrey's untimely demise and that of Lord Tywin, his father. They also said that he feasted on the blood of children to increase his size, that he had a whore a night and murdered them when drunk. All accounts seemed to say that he was a monster, twisted, evil and cruel, something Pod strongly denied, though not in so many words, preferring to stare daggers at the spreaders of these stories and allowing his hands to curl in to defensive fists.

She had heard precious little about the Imp from Jaime. Family had been a soft subject for both of them and it had not had come up between them all that often. She now found a strange desire to know about the Imp, and Pod, as his squire would most likely be able to fill the gaps in her knowledge.

"What was Lord Tyrion like?" she asked him cautiously, watching him from the corner of her eye as he shifted in the saddle, considering her question,

"He was..." Pod struggled with himself, fumbling over his words for a moment before he said, "He was a good man."

This startled Brienne and she found that  _she_ could not find her words and it was Pod that kept the conversation going,

"He was kind to me." The boy continued, flushing, "He was fair and he tried to do what he could for the people...He cared."

"I have heard...Many things about him." Brienne said carefully, "Things that would not lead many to believe that he was a 'good man'."

"Everyone has flaws ser, My Lady. Lord Tyrion was no different." Podrick told her softly, "They said that he was a monster, that he was not a man but...That wasn't true. He was human. We all are. And we all have flaws. Things that people will use to judge us and dislike us. But...We all want the same thing. We all want to survive in this world and we all want to find a way to bear that.

"Some people gorge themselves on food or wine, others love gold and others love whores. Some have duty and honour while others have friendship or love. But when it comes down to it, we're all just flesh and blood and bone. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"And if someone wants to drink or whore and indulge in their vices at times, that should not undo their kindness or their care, should it? The good men do should not be ignored in favour of the bad, should it?"

Brienne sat staring at him, dumbfounded. He had spoken more in these last few minutes than he had at any point during the months they had travelled together, a fact he seemed to become acutely aware of as he turned a delicate shade of beetroot and began opening and closing his mouth like a shocked trout pulled unexpectedly from a river.

She also had a sneaking suspicion that more than a little of that had been directed at the elder of the Lannister brothers. Too much of what he had said resonated with her and the battle Jaime had faced his entire life with being labelled Kinglsayer. Every word that fell from his lips being questioned by the sceptics that surrounded him on a daily basis, waiting to shoot down most every notion because of one event in his past.

A dreadful event, but a singular event nonetheless.

Not for the first time, Brienne wondered if the world would see Jaime as she did if he had  _not_ driven his blade through the Mad King's back. She wondered as well, if there would have been a world at all had Jaime not done so.

She looked back at Podrick, whose expression caught between curiosity and fear gave away the subtle workings of his mind and confirmed that he  _had_ been speaking, at least in part, of Jaime.

"No." She agreed quietly, realising they had come to a halt as they spoke and spurring her horse in to movement once more, "It should not..."

She regretted asking for Pod's advice now. While it had all been valid and sound, it was not making her life any easier.

They continued on, in mostly silence, for the rest of the day. Eating their lunch in the saddle and talking sparingly between bites. They avoided any talk of what had been and what was to come, instead commenting on what was happening to them at that moment, pointing out streams to allow their horses to drink or else strange birds that watched them in the trees with beady eyes.

They came upon Pennytree before sundown.

Brienne paused on the top of a low hill, both of them still on the road. They watched it twist and turn towards the little village in front of them.

As she dug her heels in to the horses sides and set off towards it at a trot, she could not help but think to herself,

_Jaime is behind those walls. And if you bring him out from behind them, there is no going back. You must go on. You must not look back. Do not look back._   _You have no choice. You must do this. And so you must not look back. No good will come from looking back. You will only lose yourself..._

She forced herself to go on. She had made her decision. She would not back out now. And a part of her. The one part that she still kept for herself, for her own selfish needs and desires, wanted to see Jaime once more.

The last few days she had ached for him and realised now that she had missed him so in the time they had spent apart. It would be good to travel with him by her side once more.

While dutiful and steadfast, Podrick was not the ideal companion on the long and dusty roads. She could not fault him really, he had done everything she had asked of him, but for all of the conversation he had provided her with on the road, she would have been as well attempting to discuss war strategies with her horse.

It would be good to have someone else to make the conversation once more, good to have Jaime's voice in her ears again. She longed for that time to come once more.

They rode quietly up towards the village, her eyes scanning it as they approached. But her thoughts were elsewhere and she took in little of what was around her, too fixated on what was soon to be.

It was only when Podrick rode close beside her and tentatively brushed her arm that she realised something may be amiss.

Turning to him, she raised a questioning eyebrow and he gestured subtly towards the gates telling her uncertainly,

"They don't look very happy to see us."

"They're guards Podrick." She told him dismissively, "It is there job to look like that." Though she too had her misgivings, none more so when the long lances were lowered, coming dangerously close to her horses chest.

The animal snorted unhappily and shied away from the guards. It was all she could do to keep her seat. She could hear the guards snickering as she regained control over the animal and turned to them.

"I am-" she began, with as much dignity as she could summon,

"We don't care." One of the guards sneered, "Take yerself, and yer son, and piss off."

She took a long, slow, deep breath and considered him coldly, "Who are you ser?" she enquired in a dignified voice,

"Not a knight that's fir sure." He snorted, "Scum." He said, spitting onto the ground at her feet,

"As it happens, I am-" Brienne began again, though she doubted that this would win her any favour with her frosty host. She regretted the words almost as soon as they had left her mouth,

"No shit." The guard replied with a derisive snort, "I was sure I could just make out a pair of tits under that armour."

"Ye can," his companion supplied, "And it's as much a knight as I'm the Kinglslayers' whore."

"This is Lady Brienne of Tarth." Podrick informed them waspishly, drawing the cold eyes of the guards to him before Brienne could silence him, "A highborn lady  _and_ a knight."

"That's a Lady?" the guard demanded, "My bitch pup is more a highborn lady than this one." He cracked Pod across the face with a large, ham-shaped fist, splitting his lip and knocking out a tooth, "That'll teach ye t' keep yer mouth shut and no t' spread filthy lies about things ye don't know anything about!" The guard said as Pod spluttered, choking up blood,

"That is enough." Brienne said as Pod's reply was lost in a globule of blood he spat onto the ground but that the guard seemed to decide that it was offensive enough to strike him again and had started forwards.

She punctuated her words by drawing her sword enough to show several feet of the crimson steel of  _Oathkeeper's_ blade.

"Nice sword for an ugly woman." The first guard commented drily, "Careful we don't think ye mean t' use it sweetheart."

"I do." She told him coldly, "Unless you take me to Ser Jaime, unharmed, at once."

The guard roared with laughter, "Take ye t' the Kingslayer? What d' ye think I look like? His fucking squire?" he spat in the road again, "Piss on the Kingslayer. Piss on you an' all ye filthy whore."

"No." Brienne hissed, staying Pod's hand as he reached for the dagger at his side, noting the way the second guard's hands closed around the lance,

The last thing Brienne wanted was for blood to be shed. She still hoped she could avoid the thing that looked inevitable from the outset.

"Yer not welcome here." The guard spat again," So piss off, before I fuck the pair of ye bloody." He snarled, gesturing threateningly towards the spear in his hand,

"I do not want any trouble." Brienne told him,

"Well ye shouldn't've come here then should ye?" the second guard growled at her,

Brienne ignored him.

"All I want is to see Ser Jaime, kindly admit us and we will be on our way."

"You as deaf as ye are hideous?" the guard demanding, glaring at her, an ugly look creasing his face, "We. Don't. Want. Ye. Here." He told her mockingly,

"Well I wish to be here, and I wish to see Ser Jaime." Brienne snarled, beginning to lose her own temper, hand coiled around the hilt of her sword, bracing herself for the impending fight.

"If ye wish t' live t' see Ser Jaime, I suggest ye open yer damn ears and get the fuck away from this village. We don't want yer kind here. We didn't want his kind here neither, but since he had 'alf an army with 'im, we made the exception, didn't we? You on the other hand. Yer not even worth the bother o' raping. So m'lady, unless ye want to get yerself hurt, I suggest ye leave. Now."

Brienne drew her sword, but it had barely cleared the scabbard when several things happened at once.

"Podrick!" she cried, as, turning her head at the sound of a sharp yelp, she saw him being wrenched from the saddle and beaten to the ground, still fumbling for the dagger at his side.

At that, she pulled herself from her own saddle, and turned to defend him, seeing at least three of the rough guards surrounding him, while the one she had been speaking with was still standing in front of her, lance discarded in favour for the notched, rusted sword he now held.

She had leapt at one of the guards currently gagging poor Pod and made to slash him from shoulder to groin with  _Oathkeeper_ , but the blade never made contact as Brienne found herself flying backward as something collided with her head.

And, as abruptly as a flaming arrow would ignite wildfire, everything went black save from the faint burst of stars that flashed in front of her agonised eyes and Brienne collapsed in a heap, tasting metallic blood on her tongue as the last thing before she remembered no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for your reviews last chapter :) I'm going to try and aim for consistent weekly updates so check back at roughly this time each week and I should have posted something. If anyone has any thoughts on this chapter, please share! I'd love to know how this is going so don't be shy!


	3. Degrees of Separation

** Chapter 3 **

Degrees of Separation

A long, low moan to her left roused Brienne and the sharp stinging slap the pain in her head greeted her with reminded her why she had left this world in the first place. She grimaced, squeezing her eyes together, wincing as the scars from Biter’s attack stretched painfully.  Her thin eyelids offered what protection they could against the harsh light that burned her eyes.

She used her tongue to assess the damage to her mouth, finding at least two missing teeth, accounting for the foul, lingering taste of blood on her tongue.  Forcing her eyes open, she squinted into the sun, lowering her head and finding that her hands were bound too tightly behind her back. Every slight movement chaffed the ropes on her wrists that had already rubbed the skin raw, the movements beginning to draw blood.

This was not quite the welcome she had expected at Pennytree...And so she mused bitterly, spitting out a globule of congealed blood into the dirt and becoming acutely aware of how much her legs were cramping due to the way they had been twisted beneath her.

She soon uncovered the source of the moaning to be Podrick who was bound as she was and had been left beside her, much the worse for wear after their encounter at the gates. Both eyes were blackened and his face was peppered with cuts and bruises. The skin was mottled, broken, with thick spectacular purple and black patterns blossoming over the hands that were bound behind him, the black split only by the thin ribbons of blood that twisted from the open skin at his wrists where his ropes had cut through the flesh.

He gave himself a little shake and dutifully noted that she too was awake as he spluttered thickly, “I am sorry Ser, My Lady...”

“Whatever for, Podrick?” she asked, startled, their attack at Pennytree was her fault, not his,

“I failed you, Ser, My Lady,” he said sadly, hanging his head, “I let them pull me from my horse and-“

“Enough Podrick,” she told him sharply, “You have nothing to apologise for, do you understand?”

“Yes Ser, My Lady,” he mumbled to his feet. He paused a moment before saying quietly, “They’re not the friendliest, are they?”

She snorted, “No, they are not.” She agreed. She may have put the hostilities they had been greeted with to the troubled times they lived in. Most people smelt death and destruction around every corner and few were want to leave their homes. She could no longer count the number of villages like Pennytree that had been ransacked, the men slaughtered, the women raped and the houses burned to the ground. They had every right to be wary of strange travellers, and she could not think of a stranger pair than herself and Podrick for that matter, but the brutality that had led to their current situation was beyond explanation.

“Has anyone been for us?” she asked Pod,

“No Ser, My Lady.” He paused a moment considering before saying, “Well, there was one. A man. He came a few hours ago. Talked with the guards-“

“What did they say?”

“I do not know Ser, they spoke too quick and too quiet for me to hear.” Pod replied, screwing up his face in his effort to remember, “I believe he wished to see us and they would not let him, but I cannot be sure, My Lady.”

“What did he look like, this man?” Brienne asked, heart lifting at the thought that it might have been Jaime. But her heart sank as she told herself, _If it had been Jaime, surely he would have freed us..._ Another, slyer voice answered her, _Unless he knew why you were here..._

Pod interrupted her jumbled thoughts to answer her question, “He was...Large.” he said thoughtfully, “I...I am not sure of much more My Lady, it was dark Ser.”

“Very well,” she said thoughtfully, “What of his arms? Could you see a sigil.”

“I think so...” Pod said uncertainly, “But I did not recognise it.”

“What was it?” she asked, curiosity seizing her,

Pod considered for a moment before saying slowly, “Four sunbursts...” he said, “Of and on two different colours, but I could not be sure of what they were.”

“Could it have been orange and black?” Brienne asked, a thought gripping her at this, “

“Perhaps, Ser, My Lady...” Pod replied after a moment’s hesitation. “It was-“

“Dark, yes,” Brienne interrupted, thinking, if it _was_ those arms, and she could not think of any others it could be, that meant that their visitor belonged to House Kenning, of Kayce...If that were the case, then she thought she could identify their visitor, and thought it more than likely that he could be with Jaime.

Either way, she must know.

“Podrick,” she said, an idea coming to her, “Would you object to lying down in the mud?”

“N, no Ser, but, why My Lady?” he asked, eyes widening as though fearing suddenly for her sanity,

She smiled.

***

Wynn was sat with his back to the fire, sucking a chicken bone between his teeth, drawing the last of the meat from it. He was still cursing the filthy wench that had happened upon them, demanding to be taken to Ser Jaime. What had she taken him for? His bloody servant? Not likely. She came riding upon them speaking like the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, what gave her the right to speak to him in that way? A knight she said. Bah. The ugly whore had been no more a knight than his dead mother...Still, she had handled that sword well enough and a thought he would take to his grave entered his head then as he found himself grateful that he had not been forced to cross swords with her.

Marcus had spared him that. T’was not honourable, and so the filthy little upstart she had ridden with had spluttered through a mouthful of mud before the fist that connected with it had finally shut him up. Attacked from behind. No. Not honourable at all. All honour had drained from these men long ago. Honour did not protect their women. Honour would not see their children to their next namedays. They had no room for honour any longer.

“Wynn,” a gruff, rattling voice interrupted him, “What in Seven Hells are we gonna do with ‘em now?”

“Kill her, fuck her, see what I care.” He snarled, not looking up, flicking the bone away and picking up another wing, tearing it in two with his large hands,

“Who’d fuck that? Even I ain’t that desperate yet-“ pockmarked Kett cackled across the dancing fire,

“You took ‘em, you deal with ‘em.” The voice informed him harshly, “I overheard that that little brat spoke true, she’s ‘ighborn, Wynn.”

“An’ what if she is?”

“Well if she is and her Lord Father decides he don’t like what we done to his daughter-“

“’E should be thanking us,” Kett jeered, “I’d say we improved ‘er looks.”

“Deal with her Wynn.” The voice growled in his ear, “Give her to the Kingslayer I say, get rid of ‘er.”

Before Wynn could form a reply to that, a horrified shout pierced the camp,” Help me, please, someone, anyone, help me!”

“It’s her.” Wynn was told from several throats,

“Let the bitch scream all she likes.” Wynn snapped, “What do I care why she’s screamin’. Women do.”

“Help, please, someone, please, please help me!”

“Deal with her Wynn.” The voice snarled,

“Fine.” He snapped, “Kett, Jon, with me, let’s go see what the ugly pig’s shriekin’ fir-“

They made their way towards the pit they had dumped their prisoners into and Wynn peered into it, “What?” he demanded, spitting in the dirt at her feet for good measure,

“The boy.” She told him frantically, “He’s not breathing, please, help me.”

“Why should I care if your stinking little whelp dies?” Wynn demanded dismissively,

“He’s only a boy.” She pleaded, “A child, please-“

“Wynn, if Lou’s right, if they’re ‘ighborn, and he dies, it’ll mean-“

“I know what it’ll mean.” He snarled, “Get me a rope then, if it’ll shut you women up.”

Wynn lowered himself into the pit and approached the woman and the boy she was crouched over, 

“The ropes,” she insisted pointedly, “They are too tight, he cannot breathe, you’ve killed him, you-“

“Shut your mouth,” he snarled, cracking her across the face and sending her sprawling in the dirt, a foot away from him,

He knelt over the boy and slit the ropes that bound his wrists together with a knife he pulled from his boot. Returning it there, he bent over him and listened, reassured to hear the faint, rapsing breaths that still came from him.

“You mad women? ‘E’s not dead-“

At that point however, several things happened at once, the woman in the corner struck him, hard in the leg and sent him to his knees and the boy that had lain limply at his feet only a moment before, leapt to his own and seized the knife from his boots and pressed it against his throat.

***

Brienne relieved Wynn of his sword and, with difficulty, used it to cut through her own bonds, before laying the point over Wynn’s heart. A string of vile curses were spat from his lips but she ignored him, digging the sword into the rough jerkin he wore and asked,

“The man who came for us earlier, he was Ser Kennos of Kayce, was he not?”

“How in the bleeding Hells am I supposed t’ know that?” he demanded, cursing her until she dug the sword into his chest a little harder and cut him off, “I don’t know the names of every whore’s son that claims t’ be a lord coming ‘ere, do I?”

“But he is with Ser Jaime, is he not?” Brienne pressed,

“What do I care?”

She turned up to the men still goggling at the scene in the pit from above and said, “Bring me the man that came to see us before and bring him quick, else I drive this blade through his heart.”

“Wynn-“ one of them asked skittishly from above, glancing at their commander with wet, nervous eyes,

“Do as she says you bleeding fool.” He roared, spitting into the dirt “And damn the lot of ye’ t’ the Seven Hells.”

It did not take their captors long to bring their visitor to them and Brienne saw that it was indeed Kennos.

“You sent for me? And by name my good woman.” He told her as he gazed down, uncertainly at her, “How is it that you know me?”

She looked up at him in answer and he took a startled step backwards, “My Lady,” he spluttered. She knew from that that he recognised her,

“Ser Kennos, I have urgent business with Ser Jaime, you must bring him to me at once, so that we may clear up this disagreement.” She told him sharply,

“Of course.” He said, before swelling and turning to her captors and demanding, “Who is responsible for this?” No-one deigned to offer him a response and so he turned back to Brienne and her prisoner, “Wynn.” He spat derisively, “Ser Jaime will have your head on a spike for this, do you know who she is?”

“I know who she claims to be an’ I know I don’t give two shits about ‘er, that’s all I need t’-“ he broke off with a pained grunt as Pod drove his knee into Wynn’s back, silencing him,

“And what, preytell, did she claim to be?” Kennos asked venomously,

“An ‘ighborn Lady, an’ a knight t’ boot.” Kett replied dismissively,

“She is as she says.” Kennos told him, narrowing his eyes, “This is Lady Brienne of Tarth, daughter of Lord Selywn of Evenfall. And aye, she is a knight too.”

“An’ she’s my prisoner.” Wynn interrupted,

“Really?” Kennos replied with a withering look, “It appears to me to be the other way around, my good man.” He replied mockingly, before turning back to the little cluster of men that had formed around them, “I demand that she be released immediately,” with a quick glance back into the pit and a nod towards Podrick, whom Brienne confirmed was with her with a curt tilt of her head, “And the boy as well.”

“Or what?” Wynn demanded,

“Or Ser Jaime shall have your heads, all of them.” Kennos roared, “As is he shall have you for this Wynn, Ser Jaime holds Lady Brienne in the highest of regards, and you _will_  release her, or you shall wish you had.”

Less than an hour later, Brienne and Podrick were both pulled from the pit and Wynn was gagged and bound and given to Podrick’s command. Brienne demanded that their supplies be returned to them and begged a moment to change into something more appropriate for receiving Ser Jaime.”

“Of course My Lady,” Kennos said, “I shall take you to him as soon as you are dressed. We are camped on the other side of the village, close to the Eastern Wall.”

“I thank you, Ser.” She told him curtly,

Brienne took her leave then and stripped out of the soiled clothes she had been in, ruined due to being caked in a mix of dried blood and mud. She found something more suitable in her saddlebags and gratefully donned her armour once more, With Podrick’s help and lastly sheathed _Oathkeeper_ at her side once more, having missed its familiar weight upon her hip.

They returned to Kennos then and she said, “We must make haste, Ser, I must speak with Ser Jaime as soon as possible.”

“Then I shall keep you waiting no longer My Lady.” Kennos told her, with a slight bow.

They set off together, will Podrick at their heels, leading the horses, Brienne having surrendered Wynn to the keep of one of Kennos’ men,

“I have heard much and more of you from Ser Jaime, My Lady,” Kennos told her as they walked, “If half of what he says is true...”

“Why would you have reason to doubt his tales?” Brienne asked, raising an eyebrow.

She was used to scorn, to disrespect, and even to pity, from men who named themselves as she did, knight. It meant something in Westeros, it meant honour and duty, strength and skill, and in the minds of all, it meant a man. People would not readily believe that a woman was capable of the things that men were, not where warriors were concerned. Women were supposed to fight their battles in the home, in a pretty silk dress, they must be kept from war and bloodshed at all costs, that was a man’s work.

Brienne had spent her life proving them wrong. But for every man she showed, another two disbelievers appeared in his place...She wondered what tales Jaime had told Ser Kennos of her, though she was not of a mind to ask. The man had been nothing but respectful towards her, and she owed him her freedom after all, but she could not help but think he thought Jaime wrong, or even mad, for the tales he may have told of her. She had no wish to anger that fire of doubts that clearly consumed this man and so she would not ask.

“It, I would not call it _doubt_ My Lady,” Kennos said, uncertainly, very much wrong-footed by her question, “Merely, well,  all good tales require a certain, suspension of belief and exaggeration about them in the re-telling do they not?”

She had half a mind to inform him that there had been no exaggeration of the Bloody Mummers that had set upon them, nor the bear pit they had thrown her into but she thought better of it, she had not the time nor the energy to waste on this man, he would simply have to be added to the list of ignorant fools that plagued this world.

“As you say.” She said simply, turning back to Podrick to avoid being entangled in any further conversation with this man and saying, “Water the horses, and see to it that they are well-fed. You may come to us when you have done this, I would have Jaime know you.”

“Yes Ser, My Lady.” Podrick said, hurrying away with the horses and leaving Brienne alone with Kennos, though not for long she suspected as the man came to a slow halt and turned to address her.

“Might I beg a favour from you My Lady?” he asked quietly, leaning in close to her,

“You may.” She said,suspicion gnawing away at her,

“These villagers, what they did, it was not right, but you must understand, they are afraid. Their town has been pillaged by bandits in the past and-“

“Do _I_  look like a bandit, Ser Kennos?” she broke in, irritably,

“No My Lady.” He answered cordially enough, “But you look a stranger, and for the folks here, that is more than enough cause to take you and kill you.”

“What is it that you would ask of me, ser?” Brienne asked,

“That you leave-“

“I must see Ser Jaime,” she protested,

“Aye, you must, but I would rather you came to him under different conditions, and did not speak of the things Wynn and his lot did. They are a brutish lot, but they are simple, and they do what they do to keep safe their homes and their families. I would not seem them punished, and Jaime will surely have their heads if you breathe so much as a whisper of what happened to you and the boy. I will see to it that Wynn is punished, as well he might be, but the others...When we leave this village my lady, they are all that will remain to defend it, I would not see them strung up because of the works of one bad apple amongst the orchard...”

“You would ask me to leave and return to Jaime under some pretext?”

“Aye my lady, I would ask if you would be so good.” Kennos replied, “There are scouts to the East, watching that way for our camp, if you ride towards them, they shall take you to the Kingslayer, and we may forget this business?”

Brienne considered for a moment before nodding and saying, “For the debt I owe you, Ser Kennos, I will do this thing.”

“I thank you my lady.” Kennos said, inclining his head to her.

Brienne fetched Podrick and told him of Kennos’ request. As predicted, he wished to go with her, but she could see he was in no fit state. She told him to remain with Kennos and have the wounds he had taken at the gate tended to, she would ride to Jaime herself. She was loathe to leave the boy behind, he had made a good companion, but she had no wish to endanger him again, and she did not believe that Sansa was still with The Imp. It would do him no good to continue travelling with her, and if all went well, she and Jaime would leave before he even realised they were gone.

 It was a deception, and one that cut her at that, but it was necessary, and so she told herself as she did as Kennos had bidden her and rode East.

As Kennos promised, two of the scouts Jaime had sent out to guard his company found her before long and upon identifying themselves, she asked to be brought to Jaime. They obliged her.

They led her into camp as their captive. When Jaime saw who they had captured, he sprang to his feet to greet her. It was then she realised how she had missed him on the road, and her heart felt warm at being in his company once more.

“My lady.” He said, bowing to her as he went on, “I had not thought to see you again so soon.” She could see his eyes travelling over the strips of cloth that concealed Biter’s wounds, a tale she knew she would have to tell him, but a tale for the road she decided. “That bandage..” he told her quietly, “you’ve been wounded.”

“A bite.” She told him cagily, hand going to the hilt of her sword, before he could enquire further she pressed, “My lord, you gave me a quest.”

She could see surprise, relief, and hope flicker across his face, but also something like suspicion, but it was so fleeting that she could not be sure and he said, “The girl. Have you found her?”

“I have.” She replied, set now, any further choices would be made on the road, but they would leave this place today, of that she had decided,

“Where is she?” he asked, studying her,

“A day’s ride.” She told him, doubt gnawing at her like rats on cheese, “I can take you to her, ser...” she said, every word she spoke weighed down with doubt and something like guilt, but still she went on, “but you will need to come alone. Elsewise the Hound will kill her.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please, let me know what you thought :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I haven't tried writing any of these characters before but I really love this ship and I wanted to try something. If you could leave me a comment about this I would be very grateful! Thank you! :)


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